Brother?
by Dark E Midnight
Summary: Stanford era. Pre-series. Jess is curious about Sam's family. Specially his brother-Dean. One night Dean phones Sam and Jess picks up. Mainly about Jess and Dean's friendship with some Sam/Jess. Jess PoV. Canon at the moment. Sassica (Sam/Jess)
1. The Photo

**A/N Another preseries fic. I'm sorry I'm just obsessed with them. Once again all mistakes are my own. Please read and review- all reviews are welcome. Also I am English so some spellings might seem weird and I'm not quite sure on how American systems work. I will probably make this into a multi-chapter fic if you guys are interested.**

 **Warning: tiny bit of cussing**

 **Disclaimer: Supernatural and anything recognisable aren't mine and never will be.**

Sam never talked about his family. Well, OK, that wasn't quite true; in all the time I had known him he had mentioned his family a grand total of 4 times. Here is what I knew:

He had a brother called Dean

His mum died when he was a baby

He didn't talk to his family anymore.

It bugged me. I knew Sam didn't want to talk about it but seriously... He could trust me. I thought about this long and hard but could never find a way to bring up Sam's family without it being weird or awkward. Plus, maybe I did feel a tiny bit guilty for being nosey. It wasn't like Sam provided any openings and when I tried to create openings by talking about my own family Sam acted interested but changed the subject as early as possible. So when I found the picture I jumped at the opportunity to find out about his family.

I knew there was some kind of picture related to Sam's past in his wallet but hadn't managed to catch a glimpse of it because whenever I approached Sam tucked back into battered wallet pocket and snapped it shut so all I could see was the worn leather exterior. On this particular day Sam forgot his wallet and when I picked it up a tattered photo fluttered out. My heart was hammering as I picked it up. My mouth dropped open in shock.

First thing I noticed was Sam. A younger Sam but still unmistakably Sam. Next thing I noticed was the guy who had Sam in a head lock as he was kinda hard to miss. I guessed that must be Sam's brother. Totally in love with Sam though I was, I had to admit he was handsome. Green eyes, brown hair that edged towards blond and a careless smile graced his lips. The thing that shocked me was the happiness and the love that was clearly felt for each other.

Maybe I had been too hasty to judge but I had assumed that two guys that hadn't spoken in years obviously didn't give a damn about each other or hated each other. Sometimes I even suspected he abused Sam. I mean how else could you explain the numerous scars that covered Sam's body? Nobody was that clumsy. However, if Sam had been abused I reckoned his dad would be the culprit. Even Sam had admitted they hadn't got on. But still, a brother would know what was going on, right?

"Jess?" Sam's voice came from downstairs moments after the sound of the door opening. "I've forgotten my wallet, would you..."

I looked up. Sam stood in the doorway with a look of anger, no, a look of betrayal unmasked on his face.

"Sam I..." I didn't know what to say. Feeble excuses fell unspoken from my lips. Suddenly I felt a surge of anger. "Why don't you trust me?"

A look of shock flew across Sam's face making his eyebrows disappear into his fringe. "Jess, I do. Of course I do. I love you." He tried to reassure while shuffling uneasily on the spot.

"Then why can't you tell me about your family? Do you think I'm suddenly going to stop loving you because of who your related to?" I asked making it sound sarcastic and snarky even though I was terrified my accusations were true.

"No but. But. But." He struggled to explain. "Don't turn this on me! It was you who was snooping through my stuff!" He threw back triumphantly. It hurt me that he looked like he got a kind of vicious pleasure from fighting me.

"Well yeah." I conceded reluctantly. "But because that's the _only_ way I'm going to find out who you family is!" I shot back.

Sam ran a hand through his hair wearily and all of a sudden looked tired and I felt so damn guilty for poking me nose in his business. What right did I have? You're his girlfriend I reminded myself. And you deserve the truth. Telling myself that didn't make it any easier. Especially when he pleaded "Jess, let's not fight."

My heart melted but I was so close to finding something out so I kept my face cold and impassive even though I just wanted to hug him. "Are you going to tell me about your family?"

Sam sighed. "Jessssss, can we just forget about it please?" He used the most terrifying weapon on earth: puppy dog eyes. I had previously got the impression he had practiced these a lot. Now I knew I was right. The question was, who had he practised them on? I didn't know so I didn't give up.

"Sammmmmmmmmmm." I dragged the word out pleadingly. Damn it. He was still using his puppy dog eyes. I sighed. "Fine!" I made sure he could hear the for now at the end. I glared at him. At my words a smile of relief crossed his face and before I knew it we were kissing. For a few precious moments all my worries vanished and it just Sam. Unexpectedly he pulled away from me.

"Crap!"

I glanced at him worriedly. "What?"

"My class."

Oh yeah the whole reason he needed his wallet in the first place. He plucked the wallet with the top secret photo out my hand and rushed out the door with a hurried love you.

 **TBC…**


	2. The Phone Call

**A/N: I was struck by more inspiration so I wrote another chapter. This is going to be updated sporadically. When I have the chapters I'll post them. At the moment this story is still canon but I'm considering making it AU. Opinions? Please Read and Review**

 **A/N: Just realised there was a MAJOR formatting issue. It was literally unreadable. So I reposted this chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: Not mine**

Due to my impatient nature I decided that the _for now_ lasted until the end of Sam's lecture so waiting for Sam to get back was excruciating. Now I had an opening to ask questions thousands of them bubbled up in my mind. Why did he have so many scars? Why didn't he talk to his family? Why did he take a knife everywhere? Why could we never run out of salt? I glanced at the clock again. He was late.

Finally, after what seemed to be forever, he walked through the door. Immediately I bounded towards him, a large smile lit up his face. One of the things I loved about Sam was that he was a great hugger and this time was no exception. Then he gave me a quick kiss and let me go so I could retreat into the kitchen to make coffee. I couldn't stop smiling. "Sam." I called softly. "Please talk to me." I could literally see the exasperated face Sam was making in my mind.

"Jess!" His tone of voice begged me to drop it. Nuh huh. Not this time.

"I love you. I thought you trusted me." It was a low blow but, well, I was curious. Sam reluctantly padded back towards me. "Please..." I pleaded shamelessly. I wasn't above playing dirty. And Sam knew. He pushed his bangs off his forehead and manoeuvred back into the living room with me trailing behind.

"Fine." He muttered and sank down into the sagging couch. I perched on the arm closest to him. "My brother is called Dean and is four years older than me. After my mum died I haven't stayed in a place longer than two months before now. Me and dad don't get on. Happy?" He glared at me ferociously making it clear that no wasn't an acceptable answer. With a deep breath I asked a question regardless.

"Why don't you talk to them?"

Sam scowled. I could already tell it was the wrong question to ask. Too late now. "The last words my dad said to me were if you go out that door then don't you ever come back." Ouch.

OK. So he fell out with his dad. That didn't explain the lack of communication with his brother. So maybe they didn't get on despite the appearance of friendship in the photo I found. I decided that maybe making an assumption would get him to talk more than asking a question. Manipulative, I know but I'm a psychology major. This kinda stuff is want I study. "And I'm guessing you and Dean weren't that close so..."

He sat bolt upright with a look of combined shock and horror on his face. "I never said that!" Score one for Jess.

OK. I was officially confused. Did they get on or not? Exasperation crept into my voice. "So why don't you speak to him?!" Damn assumption making. I needed straight answers. Not that answers can't be gay… I was getting off topic. Back to present.

He sighed and pushed his bangs out his eyes. "Well… It's complicated." No shit Sherlock! Think I got that part.

"But how?!" My annoyance was now fully on show. Sam was not helping me understand this.

"He backs dad 100% on everything. I don't." The curt notes to his voice made it crystal clear this particular ally of question was over. For now. I knew how to bide my time. OK, I don't. I'll ask him when I run out of patience.

I decided to retreat and regroup for at this point in time. There would always be other opportunities. Even if I had to make those opportunities. "Fine. Thank you." I gave him a peck on the cheek and moved into the kitchen to finish the coffee that I had neglected from earlier. "Do you want any coffee?" I called.

"Yeah." He replied in a relieved voice.

Maybe drinking coffee 24/7 isn't the healthiest but, hey, I need the caffeine. Student remember? I groaned internally as I remember the 2000 word essay I had due in for Lit tomorrow. Fantastic. I just LOVE functioning on minimal sleep.

Later that night, when Sam had retired to our bedroom, I was still writing that stupid essay. I was rapidly giving up on my dream of an A. Right now I'd settle for a C as long as long as I could go to bed. Ok, maybe that was a lie but whatever. I rubbed my eyes in frustration as I missed yet another word out of a sentence then reached for the coffee pot. It was empty. I face planted into a cushion in exasperation for several minutes while working up the motivation to get up and brew another pot. As I stumbled unsteadily across the room guided only by the screen of my laptop, I heard a phone vibrating on the coffee table. I was so tired my brain didn't register it wasn't my cell. Or my ring tone. I was really tired, OK?

"Sammy?" The voice on the other side was not one I recognised. I frowned. It was quite deep and had a kind of grit to it which almost disguised the touch of hope it contained smothered in exhaustion. _Sammy_? I wondered as I realised my mistake. The caller ID simply read D. As I was considering my options (me and Sam never picked up each other's phones) the voice spoke again. "Sammy, you there?" This time it held hints of concern.

My slow brain finally realised I should say something. "Erm, yeah, sorry. This is Sam's girlfriend. Can I take a message?" I winced as that came out. Cheesy much. I sounded like one of those girlfriends from those crappy soaps which I hated. So much for inaccurate female sterotypes.

There was an awkward silence for a few minutes. "Jessica Moore?"

I suddenly felt _slightly_ awake, uncomfortable and slightly suspicious. "How do you know my name? Who is this?"

The person on the other end sighed "It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have called anyway."

That did nothing to calm me. "I'm getting Sam." I hoped the threat hid the fact my voice was shaking. Doubtful though. I'm not that lucky.

"No no. Don't. He won't want to speak with me anyway." The voice now sounded vaguely panicked. "My name's Dean." He sounded like he was trying to calm me down.

That piqued my interest. "Dean as in Dean Winchester?" Sam's brother?

Dean sighed again "Yeah. I shouldn't have called. He must never know I spoke to you. Can you delete the call from the device memory?"

Once again I was confused. I was waaaaaaaay too tired for this. "Why?"

Dean sounded slightly bitter as he said "Can you just do it? He wouldn't want me to interfere in his _normal_ life."

I was still confused but whatever, I wanted to go to bed. Damn the essay. A small section of my brain that was vaguely awake wondered why there was the emphasis on normal. "Um ok?"

"Thank you" he hung up.

I stood there like an idiot for a while clutching the cell in my hand before I finally remembered what I was meant to be doing. I deleted the call from the cell's memory. I went to put Sam's phone back but hesitated. On a whim I found my cell (it was on the kitchen counter) and copied the number under D into my contacts. I then replaced Sam's cell on the coffee table and went to bed.

 **TBC…**


	3. November 2nd

**A/N: A great big thank you to those who took the time to read this story and an even bigger one to those who followed or faved it. Don't expect updates this often all the time but I can't get these plot bunnies out my head. This is set around 2 years before pilot but that might change as story develops. Please read and review. I'd love to know what you think even if it's negative. All mistakes are my own.**

 **Disclaimer: Still not mine**

Over the next few days I found myself making increasingly feeble excuses to call Dean. Not that I ever actually phoned him because, you know, I didn't actually know the guy but it was a close run thing. It was ridiculous. I had barely even spoken to the guy and now I was acting like a stereotypical teenager with her first crush. And I abhorred that sterotype. One time I actually had the cell in my hand with my finger on the dial button before I mentally shook myself and chucked it on my bed. What was wrong with me? I hadn't dared to ask Sam anymore questions about his family for fear of drawing suspicion upon myself even though he probably had been more suspicious that I _wasn't_ asking question but whatever. I grew so stupidly paranoid that he's find out I had his brother's number I changed the name it was saved under to Winnie as a bit of a play on Winchester. I knew I was acting ridiculous but couldn't bring myself to stop. Finally, after all my obsessing, I found a legitimate excuse to phone Sam's mysterious brother and I had to stop myself from dancing with glee despite the reason I was calling. Sam had already asked me why I had a manically large grin present at all times. Yeah, wasn't really good at this whole subterfuge thing. I took a deep breath and dialled.

He picked up on the third ring. "Hello?" I frowned disapprovingly. His voice shouldn't be slurred mid-afternoon. Wait, was it mid-afternoon for him? Where did he even live? I internally cursed myself for being so judgemental.

"Erm, sorry, hi it's Jessica." I felt my face flush in embarrassment as I managed to trip over every word. _Great first impression, Jess._

"Who?" The deep voice was even more gravelly drunk.

"Jessica Moore? Sam's girlfriend?" For some reason, I felt slightly disappointed that he hadn't remembered me. I mean, why should he? We've barely spoken let alone met.

"Is Sammy OK?". Disconcertingly, Dean now sounded almost completely sober. Who was this guy? And Sammy? Seriously?

"Yes, yes of course. Sam's fine. Well…" here I hesitated unsure of what to say now I was actually taking to Dean. I should of planned this a couple more times in my head. I plan everything. Apart from this. Not that Dean would've stuck to the script I mentally wrote for him so I guess planning was kinda pointless anyway. "Mostly fine. He's been drinking a bit today and been muttering about it being November 2nd?"

"Aw Sammy," Wait now he sounded relieved? Sam drinking was a relief? And again with the Sammy. Sam hated that nickname. All nicknames, actually. I'd always assumed that was just one of his pet peeves but now I wondered if it was because it reminded him of Dean. They'd obviously been close. It just made Dean all the more intriguing. And I love a mystery. Well, only mysteries I can solve. Otherwise they are just frustrating.

"So," I pressed, "I was wondering if you knew what was up."

"Hang on a minute. How did you get this number?" Dean was slurring subtly again but that was mainly hidden by the suspicion that laced his voice.

I winced. I was hoping that would not come up. "Um… well… I sorta copied it from Sam's cell… yeah sorry…" I spoke fast with long pauses. I prayed my tone didn't convey the mortification I felt but it probably did because I'm no actress.

"Oh." He gave none of his thoughts away. Unlike me.

"Anyway… November 2nd?" I repeated hopefull.

A rush of static that I deciphered as a sigh came through the line. "November 2nd." He murmured. "Well, November 2nd is kinda… the anniversary… the anniversary of our mom's death." The last few words came out in a hurried mess. Pain was evident in his voice. I was mortified beyond belief. I just had to bring that up. _Well done, Jess._ I silently berated myself.

"Shit. Oh god. I'm so stupid. I'm so so so sorry." My thoughts tumbled out my mouth. My mind whirled with this information. This was obviously why Dean was drunk. Who am I to judge? _Oh God._ I'm an idiot.

"It's fine. I just prefer not to talk about it." My guilt multiplied at the raw hurt still shining though his words. _Great second conversation, Jess._ "So yeah," he continued. "there's nothing really you can do for Sammy. He'll be fine tomorrow."

"I'm so sorry to bother you." A quick glance in the mirror revealed my face to be a prominent pink.

"I don't mind, darling. I'll always have time for you." He suddenly sounded charming. Slightly fake.

Wait… was he _hitting_ on me? I felt slightly alarmed at the drastic change in tone. "OK? Thanks I guess. Bye?"

Like last time he hung up without warning. I sighed. My mind was churning with confusion, embarrassment and unanswered questions. However, he had said I could call him back. Well, OK, technically he said he always has time for me but that was basically the same thing, right? I smiled.

 **TBC…**


	4. Info on Dean

**A/N: Hiya again. It's been a hectic week so no updates (sorry about that), however, now it's the Easter holidays so hopefully more updates. Follow me on tumblr if you want. My name's dark-e-midnight. No Dean in this chapter but he'll be in the next one. Thank for favouriting, reading, following and reviewing. Please R and R. I just want to become a better writer. As always all mistakes are my own.**

 **Disclaimer: If I owned supernatural I'd be getting paid for this and it would probably be an episode.**

After the last time I tried to phone Dean and it resulted in a fiasco, I realised I should really try and find out more about him before I put my foot in it again. So, palms sweating with nerves, I brought up the taboo of Sam's family one evening while we were watching a mind numbing documentary (it was Sam's turn to pick and he had a thing with nature shows.) while cuddling on the worn ass sofa.

"Sam?" I broke the silence cautiously wishing I wasn't sat with my back against his chest as I would have liked to be able to gauge his reaction to my careful probing. After Dean I wanted to know when I was going too far. I really, really hoped my voice didn't shake how much I thought it did.

"Hmmmmm?" He wound his insanely long fingers in my blonde curls in a relaxing way that managed to calm my nerves. Slightly.

With a mentally encouraging deep breath, I asked. "You know you said you had a brother?"

His fingers froze. I winced. "Yeeeeeeeeah…" _Bad move, Jess._ I could literally hear his walls slamming down. OK, not literally but whatever.

I got my next question out in a rush before I could wimp out like the coward I was. "Well that was kinda really big news and ever since then…" I hesitated, heart beating wildly like a spooked pony. A really spooked pony. "I've kinda been wondering about him." Jut slightly.

Sam wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my hair so when he responded it was slightly muffled. "What do you want to know?" Did I just hear him right?

I could scarcely believe my luck. In fact, I didn't believe my look An invitation to ask anything I wanted? It was literally the best answer possible. My voice conveyed my building excitement. "What does he do?"

"He's a mechanic." The answer came so quickly it was like it was an automatic response. I frowned then mentally shrugged. Next question. Before Sam chamged his mind "So what is Dean like?"

Sam's reply was hesitant and guarded but a reply nevertheless. "I don't really know how to describe him. I've never really had to before." He sighed and got that cute little frown he got when he was really thinking. "He's annoying but very protective. Um, he likes to think he's funny and… he's tough, like really tough…"

I started at the admiration and devotion in Sam's voice. Although he'd told me they'd been close when they were younger I'd expected that there would be nostalgia and maybe a hint of longing. Why didn't they speak anymore? Surely Sam's dad wasn't the whole reason. I needed to know more. "So did you guys fall out or something?" I asked in confusion (again!).

"No. Well… kinda." There was poorly masked pain in his answer and he moved his head so his eyes were jidden behing his bangs.

There was a pause. "Baby, I don't understand." I told him slowly, wincing at the obvious statement. Generally, I make fun of people who state the obvious.

"Like I said me and dad don't get on. We fell out. Dean took his side." Now Sam sounded betrayed. I felt a flare of anger toward Dean and his dad. How dare they cause Sam pain? He was the most kind and generous person I've ever met.

I didn't want to be nosy, well, OK I did, butvmy curiosity wasn't satisfied yet. "What did you fall out about?"

"Dad didn't want me to go to college and instead of sticking up for me, supporting what I want to do Dean stayed silent and didn't even say anything when dad told me to leave and never come back. I didn't want to stop speaking to them. I just wanted to go to college. And dad… dad couldn't respect that."

I flinched at the venom in his voice. It was clear these wounds were far from healed.

"Anyway, enough of that." He smiled with visible effort but it didn't reach his eyes.. "You want any coffee?"

I kissed him to try and wipe away the tension from the conversation. I don't think it worked. "I'm good thanks, babe. Actually, I've got to go and meet the girls soon." With reluctance, I removed myself from the couch and went in search of shoes.

10 minutes later I sat on a park bench with my cell pressed against my ear. For some reason, I didn't feel like that was the whole story. I wondered what Dean had to say about it…

 **TBC… (obviously)**


	5. The Night Sam Left

**A/N: Lol, I love watching the views go up after you just post a chapter. I had Dean's story in my head and just wanted to write it. Hopefully it is better than the last one because that one felt kinda awkward and ooc. Also, this one is a bit boring and angst-y but it needs to be written. Hopefully the story will pick up soon. Please read and review. All mistakes are mine.**

 **Disclaimer: Supernatural is on a list of things I don't, and will never, own.**

He picked up almost at once. Concern evident in his voice. "Hello? Is Sammy ok?"

"Yeah, he's fine." I assure him quickly then fall silent because, how do you ask a guy how he betrayed his brother?

"OK." He sounded relieved.

"OK." There was an awkward silence that I didn't know how to fill.

"So… did you want anything?" He sounded slightly bemused and a hint confused. Can't say I blamed him.

I decided to stop dithering and ask. "I was wondering why you and Sam don't talk anymore." The tension grew like an athlete on steroids. Probably more because that was an awful ass metaphor. _Seriously, Jess?_

"Oh." Is that it? Oh? Very informative. Not.

I didn't know whether to elaborate on my question or not. While I was mulling over possible pros and cons Dean broke the silence.

In a voice that was almost painfully uncomfortable, he said "Well… Sammy and my dad, they don't really get on. You see, Sam always wanted to go his own way and stuff but dad expected us to go into the family business so college was never in the cards. Also… we could have never of afforded it…" he trailed off.

I waited. "Yeah?" Thank explained squat.

"Like I said, me and Sam never expected to go to college. So, when Sam packed his bags and said by the way I'm going to college in 10 minutes and there is nothing you can do about it-"

"Wait, wait, WHAT?! He told you TEN minutes before he left?" My mind was whirling with shock. No wonder Sam's dad reacted so badly.

Dean chuckled but it sounded fake and empty. "Yeah it was a bit unexpected." Understatement of the century! "It was like he just expected a pat on the back."

"Are you serious? Sam did that?" I couldn't hide my disbelief.

"Yeah I'm serious. Dad was… Well, he didn't exactly take it well. It hurt him that Sam hadn't told him. And dad… he doesn't deal with being hurt well. So, it came out like anger and I'm guessing you know how Sam reacts to anger."

I nodded softly although he couldn't see me. As if I could forget.

"Then they both started going at it. Sam was saying things like 'I hate you. I hate this family. I hate this life. You never let me do anything that isn't to do with hu-" He stopped abruptly. I frowned.

He continued and so I ignored the slight break in his story. "What you want me to do.' Dad was yelling things 'like we're a family and we have to stick together. Don't be so selfish!"

I felt torn. On one hand, I loved Sam and his dad obviously hadn't even considered the possibility that Sam might want to do something other than the 'family business', on the other hand, Sam's dad was justified in his hurt and anger. "Why did you have to stick together?"

"After mom died" Here his voice hitched a little and I winced in guilt at his pain "we only had each other. Especially as we moved around so much. I guess me and Sam were each other's only friend." He laughed softly "You're making me sound like a chick now. But anyway, growing up, family was survival and Sam just broke our number one rule without a hesitation. It felt like a betrayal. Hell, it _was_ a betrayal."

Now Dean was sounding angry and was obviously getting worked up. "Then, in anger, Dad said 'if you walk out that door don't you ever come back. And, instead of protesting, Sam just said 'glad to' and left."

I was horrified. Did Sam really say that? I think Dean was crying softly but I didn't want to draw attention to it. Yet again I felt terrible. But Dean wasn't finished yet.

"Sam should have known- no he must have known that Dad didn't mean it. He just said it in the heat of the moment. Sam knows Dad gets angry. Sam obviously didn't need me or want me in his new life or he would have told me before hand, but Dad, Dad needed me. He couldn't have dealt with both of us walking out so I stowed my crap and got on with the job."

"God, Dean I'm so sorry I didn't mean to-"

With forced cheer he interrupted with "Hey! No chick flick moments. Just don't ask me that again."

"Sure." I agreed hastily. There was another silence but it wasn't awkward; it was peaceful.

"Dad does care about him. He'd be the last person to admit it he's sorry but he checks on Sam from time to time.

For some reason that wasn't creepy to me, it was cute. Which was kinda disturbing "Thanks Dean."

"It's fine. And sweetheart?"

I smiled at his flirtatious tone. "Yeah?"

"Next time can it be a conversation about Lord Zeppelin or Metallica or something?"

"I'll try." I promised even though I hate heavy metal or rock or whatever.

He hung up. I wiped away the tears I didn't realise were there and sat on the park bench until the sun was completely gone and the air was icy cold.

 **TBC…**


	6. Haley

**A/N: So I'm determined to write a chapter that's happy and is of the tone I want the rest of them to be like. It's so hard to remember to write cell instead of mobile. Also, I have no idea about time zones so don't kill me if I have got it wrong. Follow me on tumblr: dark-e-midnight. Please read and review. All mistakes are my own and there are probably lots of them because I typed this past midnight on my mobile.**

 **Q: Do you want there to be short chapters with faster updates or more detailed long chapters?**

 **Disclaimer: I'm just an English girl, not owner of supernatural**

I glared at my watch impatiently hoping more time had passed then I had guessed. Nope. If anything, LESS time then my estimate had passed. Why did Sam have to go to a lecture on the day my Lit class was cancelled? I was SO bored. I picked up my phone idly and phoned Haley. It went to voice mail. Where was everyone? Could they all be avoiding me? If something didn't happen soon, I was going to DIE of boredom. Just as I was about to chuck my cell back on to the sofa and face plant into a cushion, I caught sight of the name Winnie. Well, why not phone Dean? Our conversations were certainly interesting if nothing else. Before I could stop and consider what I was about to do, I dialled.

"Is Sammy alright?"

I rolled my eyes "Yeah, Sam's alright. You ALWAYS ask me that. What do you think could possibly be wrong?" I asked petulantly. When I was bored I acted like a five-year-old. Go figure.

I could hear him considering his answer. "Sweetheart, you have no idea the trouble Samantha can get into." He replied in a lightly.

I did my best to ignore the nickname as I twirled a piece of hair around my finger. I didn't want to get distracted from my chance to glimpse into the mysterious Winchester history. "Ok. Well give me an idea of the trouble he can get into."

He laughed. "Darling, when he was 5, he jumped off a roof."

YES, this was the reprieve from boredom I'd been looking for. Although Sam jumping from a roof was not good. It was probably a low roof. "NO WAY!"

"Yes way." Dean bantered back.

"Why did he do that?" I didn't even dare to imagine what possible explanation this had. Why the hell would a five-year-old be on a roof?

"He was Batman, I was Superman, I jumped off first and he jumped off after me." Dean answered in a thoroughly amused tone.

"Were you both OK?" I felt mildly concerned. But they were both a lie so it couldn't have ended too badly

"Oh yeah. It was Sam who broke his arm. He obviously didn't know Batman can't fly. It was a pity. I had thought I'd taught him better than that." He sounded put out.

I giggled madly. "You are seriously more bothered by Sam not knowing Batman couldn't fly than Sam breaking his arm?" I teased in a playful tone.

" _Now_ , I'm more bothered by him thinking batman could fly, but at the time I was a bit worried by my little brother screaming his head off."

"What happened?" I questioned eagerly.

"I took him to the hospital on my bike handle bars."

It took me a minute to realise he was serious. "Wait, you're serious?"

"Well, yeah. Sweetheart, I was Superman, remember?" He tried to bring back the fun atmosphere. Tried.

I felt a sudden anger on Sam and Dean's behalf. They shouldn't have had to deal with that on their own. "Where was your Dad?"

"Working." He replied shortly. "Anyway, it's been lovely talking sweetheart, but I should probably hit the sack."

I glanced at my watch, it was just past 7am. "What time is it to you?"

"4ish." Was the response mangled by a yawn.

I tried to work out where he could be but my geography sucked so I gave up and asked. "Where are you?"

"Wisconsin."

Wait, did he say 4? "What time do you have to be up?" I felt guilty (yet again) for keeping him from sleep.

"7:30? 8?" He almost sounded like he was asking me.

"Crap. Sorry." I apologised.

"It's fine. I only usually get 4 hours anyway." He responded nonchalantly and sounding completely sincere.

Woah. He really must be Superman. "How?" I demanded. I needed this skill. Never mind that it was probably far from healthy.

"Practise." He sounded smug now. Dick. "Anyway, I actually do need to go to sleep now sweetheart."

"Oh, yeah, right." I was still reeling with the knowledge he usually survived on like no sleep. Before I could pull myself together he hung up. I narrowed my eyes at my cell. I swear he always hangs up on me.

 **TBC...**


	7. Why Jess Hates Guns

**A/N: I just realised how many chapters I posted yesterday. I think 3 was too many… Anyway, I wanted to explore a bit more into Jess' past because on the show she's only shown as Sam's girl and that's it. I also have a new fic called Wee Chesters which you can read if you want. Thank you for all your support. Please read and review. All mistakes are mine.**

 **Disclaimer: No matter how much I write they still won't be mine.**

I was putting Sam's clothes back in his wardrobe after they'd been washed (and no I don't do all the laundry, we take it in turns so go and shrove your assumptions up your ass) when his old duffle bag fell off the shelf. Seriously? "Crap" I muttered. As I bent down to pick it up, I realised it was open and some of the contents had escaped its clutches. Great, this day kept getting better and better. Oh well. It was mainly old clothes and very rare, very worn toys and books. I began to stuff it all back in as neatly as it was possible to stuff things in when the cool gleam of metal caught my eye. I frowned. What the hell could be in here? With a slight tinge of guilt, I reached in and pulled the object of my attention. It was a gun. A real gun. Not a fake, toy gun. A gun. I froze. It suddenly seemed as if the world had stopped other than my quick breathing. I felt detached from my body. No way would _Sam_ have a gun. Especially without telling me. He knew how I felt about guns. I mean come on, Sam was a gentle giant. Unintentionally, I remember the night when some drunk guys were groping a crying girl. Sam hadn't seemed gentle then. It became all too clear I still knew next to nothing about Sam's past. With shaking hands, I shoved the gun back into the bag while refusing to look at it. What else could he have hidden in the apartment? What if he was some kind of serial killer? _Stop it. You_ know _Sam, Jess._

I grabbed my cell with trembling hands intending to ring Sam and confront him when I hesitated. Surely it was better to find out more before yelling at the guy who had God knows how many weapons hidden in our apartment. I nodded to myself in conformation, and selected the name Winnie.

"Is Sammy ok?" Was the immediate question.

"He has a gun, Dean. A god damn gun." I began crying and hating myself for my weakness. So much for girls not being over emotional.

"Oh. You didn't know that?" He asked sounding confused about what the big deal as.

"If I had known, he would no longer have a gun." I stated.

"Well, sweetheart, Sammy has a gun." He was almost _amused._

"Why, why would he need such a, such, a monstrosity?" I gasped out between sobs. _Get a grip, Jess._

"When we were younger we lived in some pretty hellish areas and it gave us security. Hey, sweetheart, Are you ok?" Now he sounded genuinely concerned for my wellbeing.

"When I was younger I had some pretty bad experiences with a gun. I hate them." I admitted while calming down slightly.

"It's cool. You wanna, uh, talk about it?" He asked sounding completely awkward and at a loss with the situation.

"I was held hostage at gunpoint for hours." I told him in a shaky voice, rivers streaming down my face. I tried to block out the memories. Too late. More details tumbled out. "They shot my dad in the leg. He's had a limp ever since." This was before the divorce of course. I'm still not sure which was more traumatic

"I'm sorry, Jess." I think that was the first time he's called me by my name. "Don't cry, sweetheart. It's ok. You're safe. You know Sam has the hots for you, right?"

"Yeah," I smiled in spite of the tears. Despite everything, I couldn't doubt that. I didn't even wonder how Dean could possibly know that.

"He would never do anything to hurt you. He just needs the security." He assured me.

"But I hate them." I stars plaintively as I slided down the wall to sit on the cream carpet. Urg, I sounded so needy and pathetic. More female stereotypes filled.

"I know, sweetheart. If you asked, Sammy would get rid of the gun but it would make him unhappy. He's had some bad experiences too." He spoke in a low calming tone that soothed me despite the topic of conversation. "Some guys broke into our car and tried to rob it with us in it. They would've done it too if it hadn't of been for Dad's gun in his bag."

I sighed. That was a pretty good damn argument to want a gun.

Dean continued. "It would be much better if you could just ignore the gun. Can you do that? For Sam?" he pleaded which surprised me. Dean didn't seem like the kinda of guy who pleads.

I closed my eyes. Could I possibly forget there was an instrument of death not 6 foot away from where I slept? To my astonishment I discovered I could. For Sam. He needed it as much as, if not more than, I needed it gone. "Yes." I whispered.

"Good girl. You gonna be ok, sweetheart?" I smiled at his concern.

"I think so. Thanks, Dean." I was glad I had called Dean. I knew I'd called Sam he would have got rid of the gun with no complaint and I'd never have known about the comfort it brought him. I was so deep in contemplation of what other events could cause Sam's need for one that I barely registered Dean had hung up on me. Again

 **TBC…**


	8. Prank War

**A/N: Just a lil light hearted chapter to make me feel happy after I started watching season 7 for the first time. Thank you for sticking with this story. For putting it in your favourites, following it and especially reviewing. Every time I get a review it motivates me to write more. I actually have no idea where this is going anymore. At the beginning, I had a plan but it didn't want to be written like that. Please read and review. All mistakes are mine.**

 **Disclaimer: Nope I don't own them I just love them.**

I screamed as the sugar fell out the cupboard and emptied itself on my head. I had been attempting to make chocolate chip cookies with Sam because he said he'd never made them before (how sad?) but it was failing terribly. Now Sam was in hysterics and my hair was going to be horrible and sticky. "It's not funny." I whimpered as I tipped my head upside and attempted unsuccessfully to shake the sugar out.

"Yes, it is!" He argued playfully as he bounded across the room and kissed me lightly. While I was distracted by my gorgeous boyfriend, Sam grabbed a handful of flour and dumped it in my hair.

"Saaaaaaam!" I wailed. Why would he do this to me? I ran my hands through my curls frantically trying to remove the gritty, flour-y texture. He laughed again and attempt to kiss me again but I batted him away with a batter covered spatula. It splattered all over his shirt. I began to giggle helplessly.

"Jess!" He grabbed the milk.

"Nononononono that's too far!" I shrieked as he chucked it over me. I squealed as the cold liquid hit me. I stared at him in disbelief while drenched and dripping wet. He slowly backed away. "THIS ISN'T OVER!" I yelled at his back as he made a quick retreat.

After a hot shower, I scrubbed the kitchen counter muttering furiously. As I was an only child, I had no idea how I could get revenge on Sam. If only I'd had a sibling to prank. Sibling…Dean! Dean would have loads of pranks I could pull. With a grin, I abandoned my cleaning efforts (Sam made nost the mess anyway) and raced up stairs to grab my cell. As it was dialling, I smiled as I realised Dean was my Sam Google. If I had a question about Sam I just called him. After what seemed like an eternity, he picked up.

"Is Sam OK?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. Anyway, I was wondering, do you know any pranks?"

"Of 'cause I do, sweetheart! I am the king of pranks." He sounded indignant that I had to ask.

I was taken by surprise at the enthusiasm in his voice. "So any Sam would find annoying?"

He chuckled. "Darling, Sam was the subject of all my pranks."

"What was the best prank you've pulled?"

"Nair in his shampoo." He answered promptly.

"Really?" I said in disbelief. Surely that prank was too far.

He laughed. "Yeah, Sammy didn't find it so amusing."

"Did it actually make him go bald?" I asked in interest.

"Sure it did. He had to wear a hat while it was growing back. I don't think he's ever forgiven me." He informed me proudly.

I made an effort to get back on track. "What would you say is a good, funny prank?"

"I can't really think of one in particular, sweetheart. I don't think you realise how many pranks I've pulled. Me and Sam would have _wars_ that lasted for entire weeks." He proclaimed.

"Who usually won?" I was getting sidetracked again but come on, this was interesting stuff.

"Well, sweetheart, that is the subject of much debate. I usually win, but Sam thinks he does." He said sounding put out. "Took the sweetness out the victory." He informed me sadly.

I didn't miss the use of present tense. "OK, back on task. A good prank?"

"Hiding his laptop is a classic and always hilarious. Especially if you keep the charger once you give it back. On the other hand, sewing his trouser legs shut always gets a good reaction. Why do you want to prank him?"

"Um. He chucked milk on me." I admitted feeling a bit stupid.

"Hm. So you want a prank that isn't too extreme so when it escalates the backlash won't be too bad." He sounded like he was planning a war or something.

I felt a flicker of alarm. "Hey! Who said anything about it escalating? This is a one off!" I protested although I had a sneaking suspicion he was right.

He chuckled in amusement and replied in a knowing voice "Sweetheart, it always escalates." He told me solemnly.

I sighed. I guess he did have more experience. I had never really participated in a prank war before. I gave into Dean's wisdom. "Ok, what do you recommend? We began to plan.

I sat next to Sam and gave him my best death glare. He moved to put his arm around me, saw my face and thought better of it. We sat like that awkwardly for several minutes. Eventually he got up to go get a salad. I grinned in poorly concealed excitement. This was going to be good. He sat back down with the salad and placed a huge forkful in his mouth and began to chew. Immediately his face went red as a tomato and he began to pant frantically. Sam literally jumped to his feet and sprinted to the tap. Meanwhile, I laughed hysterically. A few minutes later he had recovered enough to speak.

"You did this?" He accused in between gulps of water.

"Yep." I confessed proudly.

"This is not over."

"Bring it on, babe."

 **TBC…**


	9. Baby is a She

**A/N: Thanks everyone who's read, followed, faved and reviewed. Please tell me what you think. All mistakes are my own.**

 **Q: I don't want to put more Sam/Jess pranking in this fic but if I make a spin off about their prank war would you guys be interested?**

I was feeling increasing guilt over the fact Sam didn't know I knew his brother. It was hardly fair that Dean knew I knew Sam but Sam didn't know I knew Dean. On the other hand, when we first spoke, Dean had been adamant that Sam didn't want him in his life. And I was inclined to think that he knew best due to know more about the rift between him and Sam. I decided to ask Dean if we could tell Sam about our friendship. I laughed inside when I thought that. Me and Dean were friends. When the hell had that happened? Decision made, I phoned Dean.

"What?" He growled when he picked up. His usual smooth, good natured voice was replaced with a gruff snarl.

"What? No is Sammy OK?" I snapped back. His tone made my already uneasy mood into a bad one.

He sighed. "Sorry, you woke me up." He attempted to sound normal.

"Oh." I really didn't know what to say to that. Sorry, maybe?

"You're lucky I didn't have company." He added sounding slightly more awake but irritated.

Wait, I thought his time zone was 3 hours behind mine? I glanced at the clock, it said 18:09. "I thought you lived in Wisconsin?" I asked pretty confused.

"What? No!" Great. Now _he_ sounded confused. How was I meant to understand when Dean didn't even understand? "Why the hell would you think that?"

"Erm, maybe because that's what _you_ told me?" Did I imagine that conversation or something?

"Sweetheart, I'm pretty sure I didn't." He stated adamantly with zero doubt.

"How sure?" I was suspicious this was all a ruse. He _was_ the self-proclaimed King of Pranks.

"100% sure considering I don't live in damn Wisconsin. I hate Wisconsin." He announced in an insulted voice.

"What's wrong with Wisconsin?" I demanded hotly. Now I was offended. I actually quite liked Wisconsin. My auntie lived there.

"It's freezing." He informed me flatly.

I decided to move on. "We were talking and you were tired and I asked what time it was for you and you said 4 and I asked where you were and you said Wisconsin!" I accused. I managed to say all that in one breath so it came out in a rush. But he definitely said he lived in Wisconsin!

"I didn't say I LIVED in Wisconsin. I said I was IN Wisconsin!" He explained superciliously.

"Oooooh." That made sense. Sorta. "So where do you live?" I inquired curiously.

"On the open road with my baby." He answered promptly.

"Wait, wait, what? You live on the road? So, you don't really _live_ anywhere?" I asked making sure I was keeping up. Being confused was getting pretty damn boring.

"Yep. The most I've ever lived anywhere is Kanas. But that was before mom died." His voice got quieter and sadder toward the end.

So, he hadn't had a home since his mom died when Sam was a baby? I felt anger at Sam and Dean's dad. They deserved a home. Instead of ranting I asked an easier question. Partly because I didn't want to properly argue, partly because I was curious.

"Who's baby?" I realised I knew next to nothing about Dean. Did he have a girlfriend? Wife even? Earlier, he had implied otherwise when he said he could have had company but maybe his relationship was open ended.

"Baby's my ride." Pride was evident in his voice.

He called a _car_ baby? Really? "So Baby's just a car?" I asked in confusion (yet again)

When he answered, he sounded highly offended. "Baby is not _just_ a car! She's a "67 Chevy Impala!"

I was not a car person but even I knew what "67 meant in car speak. "So it's a classic car?"

Now he just sounded pissed. "Baby is not an it. And yes, she's a classic car."

Whatever. I wasn't going to get into it with Dean about the fact his car was an inanimate object. "Okaaaaay… moving on… I want to tell Sam we know each other." I realised we'd never actually met and added "Sorta."

"No." Was the swift answer in an uncompromising tone.

I frowned "Why?"

"Sammy doesn't want me in his life. If he did, he would have phoned. I'm not going to ruin this new life for him." He said with conviction.

"But-"

Dean interrupted me. "Promise me you won't tell him, Jess. It's what's best for him."

With a sigh, I gave in. He did have solid reasoning and seemed to know what he was saying. "Fine." Instead of saying thanks he hung up on me. Again. I rolled my eyes in exasperation.

 **TBC…**


	10. Sam's Salt Problem

**A/N: Sorry I disappeared. My life suddenly got busy. I am still active please don't give up on me.**

 **This chapter was inspired by a tumblr post about Jess challenging Sam about his hunter's habits.**

I was dusting our sitting room as we had had a party, well mainly me Sam is incredibly antisocial so he'd disappeared somewhere, so our flat was a mess when I noticed the salt had magically reappeared again. It's not like I hadn't noticed it before. A line popped up soon after I cleared the previous one away was hard to miss but I had always ignored it not wanting to start an argument. Today… I wasn't in the mood to just quietly clear up Sam's mess like a good little girlfriend. I was hungover (shut up), tired and frustrated. I had no idea why Sam kept lining our flat in salt and, if I was honest, I didn't really care as long as it stopped. "SAM!" I was probably being too harsh but whatever. I couldn't deal with anymore crap at the moment.

Sam lumbered into the room massaging his temples. He was no better off than me (probably worse, actually. Lightweight). "What?" He snapped.

"Like you don't know!" Yeah, sure he just forgot he covered the room in salt.

"No I really don't." He had the audacity to look confused.

I gestured angrily towards the barricade of white grains. "Stop leaving damn salt everywhere!"

A look a comprehension dawned on his face. It was quickly replaced by a look of what could only be described as pig headedness. "No." He set his jaw and folded his arms.

"Don't you dare say no. I am not living in a house that is covered in fucking salt 24/7! So there!" I mentally rolled my eyes at myself. So there? What was I? Five? I might as well stick my tongue out and be done with it.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath and made an effort to sound reasonable. "Look, Jess, this is probably going to be hard to understand but the salt has to stay. Please?" He attempted to come in for a hug but I backed away. I was probably acting like a brat but I was fed up.

"No. Don't you 'please' me. I put up with a lot of crap from you. I deal with the scars, the weird symbols you draw in every room, the evasive answers… hell! I even put up with the weapons! But-"

His eyes widened in concern and a look of panic fleeted across his face. "What weapons?"

I was beyond pissed. "Don't play dumb. You have guns and god knows what else despite knowing how I feel about them. But whatever, that's not the point right now." I attempted to get back on task. "The point is I put up with a lot and I try and be understanding… BUT I DRAW THE LINE AT SALT!"

Sam looked terrified and for the life of me, I couldn't fathom why. "But, Jess… It's important…" There was a note of urgency in his voice but I didn't have the translation for his language.

"Why?" I demanded.

"What?" For some reason he looked confused.

I stepped forward and mirrored him by folded my arms while doing my best to look him in the eye. (I didn't succeed. Because, holy crap, Sam is tall) I could no longer cover the hurt in my tone with anger. "Why is it so important? Huh? You can't tell me? What a surprise!" I threw my hands up in the air.

"Jess…" He pleaded. "No. I'm not giving in. Either tell me what's so important or no salt." Please tell me Sam. I thought desperately. You can trust me. I was just so tired of all the secrets. And I think I mentioned I'm not exactly patient.

Sam hesitated looking practically torn in two. I felt guilty for causing such conflict but I was done being the girlfriend who just goes along with everything. I was done pretending to be blind. I was done making sacrifices. I was not gonna be that girl who ignores everything because it goes against her vison of a perfect life. He bit his lip then nodded, seemingly come to a decision. "No salt." He whispered.

I sighed inwardly in frustration. Couldn't he just trust me for once? Maybe Dean could shed some light later. For now, I accepted Sam's sacrifice with a hug and a kiss. "Thank you…" I breathed softly in his ear. Despite my annoyance, I did appreciate that he was taking a big step. And he was doing it for me. I just wished I knew what that step was.

 **TBC…**


	11. Sam's Salt Problem Explained

**A/N: I'm currently posting my friend's story for her and she made me feel guilty so Chapter 11. Hope you enjoy. This one was really hard to write for some reason so please forgive if OOC. PLEASE REVIEW. I've read a lot of fics recently and confirmed I am a crappy writer so I'm sorry I can't tell this story how it deserves to be told.**

After Sam had gone to his smart people, complicated, lawyer class thingy (yeah, I didn't know what it was called. I had trouble just remembering the names of my owns classes and I had less than Sam.) I sat on the crappy couch decided to phone Dean to ask about the salt. There had to be a reason for it. Sam couldn't have just woken up one day and been like, hey, I want to pour salt all over the place. Hopefully Dean would know. I was so sick of all the damn secrets. Why couldn't Sam just trust me? I reminded myself that no matter how close me and Sam had gotten, it was really none of my business. I would still phone Dean though. Despite wanting to play the 'find out Sam's past' game fair and square with Sam telling me his history himself, I wasn't above cheating. Probably because of the no patience thing.

"Is Sammy ok?" Dean sounded, well, not tense exactly, I'd describe it more as alert.

I rolled my eyes. "He's fine apart from having a salt issue. Care to shed any light?" I cut straight to the chase while fiddling with the cushion tassels, eager for the response.

To my surprise, Dean was hesitant, wary even. "What salt issue?"

"You know, the one where he creates a line of salt on window sills and along the walls." I was hoping Dean did actually know or I'd be on my own.

"Oh. He… thinks it wards off snails and crap?" Dean sounded notably unsure of his answer. Yeah, I may not have been as smart as Sam but that didn't mean I was stupid. I did still get into Stanford. And I studied psychology.

"Cut the crap, Dean. If that was true he would have just told me that when I asked." I sounded more sharp then I intended. I just wanted a straight answer for once.

"You asked Sammy about the salt?" Dean sounded incredulous. "What did he say?" OK, now Dean sounded way more amused then the situation called for.

"Practically nothing." I told him dejectedly. "Stop changing the subject. What's the real story?" The more they dodged, the more curious I got.

He sighed. "The truth?"

I smiled. "Always."

"Sammy's superstitious."

That was a pause in which I expected him to tell me he was joking. "No way."

"Yes way." There was another pause. "He believes it wards off spirits and demons."

"Why wouldn't he just tell me?" I asked whilst trying to wrap my head around the idea that Sam, the most level headed person I knew, was superstitious.

Dean laughed. "My guess is he is embarrassed about it. I mean, come on, evil spirits?"

"I guess that makes sense." I was slightly disappointed. Did Sam seriously think I would make fun of him? OK, maybe I would but I would be joking and certainly wouldn't think any less of him.

"Jess?" The rare use of my name had me paying full attention. "Is there any chance you could leave the salt? Y'know, for Sam's peace of mind?" He inquired hesitantly and almost, for the first time since I'd spoken to him, nervous.

"No. No way. The gun I can just about understand but the salt…it's just a stupid superstition." This was not up for debate.

"I understand. Salt isn't exactly a practical ornament." He sounded resigned. Thank God. I didn't want to have a repeat of the argument with Sam.

"Thanks Dean." Dean was much more laid back than Sam. Sometimes after a day of stressing about classes with Sam, a conversation with Dean was just what I needed to relax.

"Sorry, sweetheart."

He apology shook me from my thoughts. "What? Why?"

He laughed again. "For having to break the news that your boyfriend is a girl."

I giggled slightly. Dean had helped me put this back into perspective. We had both over reacted. It wasn't that big a deal. "I've suspected as much ever since I saw his pink tooth brush…"

"Didn't the hair tip you off?"

I felt guilty about making fun of Sam when he wasn't here to defend himself but, well, Dean was Sam's brother.

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I gotta go. Bye, sweetheart." He said suddenly but apologetically before ending the call.

I glared at the phone. He'd hung up on me. Again.

 **TBC…**


	12. Haley Part 2

**A/N: So I made a little deal with myself that when this fic got to 5000 views I would write a new chapter. It's on 5001. THANKS GUYS! Not quite sure what this chapter is but hey, maybe one day I'll work out where this fic is going.**

 **A/N2: My sister write an amazing fic. Link is in my bio. Please go read.**

I sat down in the campus cafe. My fingers were drumming nervously against my thigh as I awaited Hayley's arrival. I internally rolled my eyes at myself and forced myself to stop being so dramatic. I was just going to luch with one of my friends. And I was going to confide in her about Dean. I bit my lip, reconsidering. It felt too much like a betrayal even though I had never promised Dean not to tell my friends about him. I just couldn't tell Sam. I was so deep in thought I barely noticed when the tiny brunette slid in the chair opposite me.

"Hey, girl. What's up?" She said with a smile that light up the room like a firework. I loved her accent! It brought me memories of holidays with my family.

"Nothing, well, not really nothing but erm, well," I was doing it again. Why did I have to have the nervous habit of mutilating my sentences? It was so damn embarrassing.

"Woah, woah, woah!" Hayley held up her hands in a stop signal. "Slow down, hun. Start at the beginning."

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly in an attempt to calm down. "So you know Sam? My brother friend?"

Hayley sighed in appreciation. I could understand that. Sam was gorgeous. "Mmmmmm. The delicious, hot, tall piece of perfection?" A dreamy smile rested on her lips.

I frowned. "Hayley… He's taken."

She shook herself out her trance and pushed her iron straight strands out her eyes. "Girl, I know. Believe me, I know." She informed me wistfully.

What was she saying? I scowled at her. "Did you have the hots for Sam?"

She shrugged, unconcerned. "Maybe. Who wouldn't? Don't worry, love. He's a one girl guy. Anyway… on with the story."

I glared at her but let it drop. For now. "So, erm, Sam never talks about his family but his phone rang and it was his brother and I picked it up and-"

"-Breath. So basically, hun, what your saying is you talked to Sam's brother without him knowing?" She looked at me in confusion and raised her hands in frustration. "I don't get the problem."

I chewed on my lip. "Well, that on its own wouldn't be a problem but I kinda copied his brothers phone number and kinda talk to him regularly?" I made it sound like a question while avoiding Hayley's gaze.

She made a so what gesture. "It's a free country. Besides, has he ever told you NOT to talk to his brother?" I shook my head. "See? I bet he's smokin' too…" She licked her lips. "Anyway, love. Still don't see the issue."

"Sam doesn't keep in touch with his family and I don't think he wants them in his life. Also, his brother keeps flirting with me and I don't know…" I rambled.

"Does Sam know?" Hayley asked getting straight to the heart of the issue. Serious for once.

"No."

"Why not?"

"His brother told me not to tell him."

"But why?"

"I don't know. It's complicated." I was beginning to sound defensive.

She rolled her electric blue eyes. "What have I told you before? If it feels wrong it probably is."

"It doesn't feel wrong exactly" I protest weakly. "I just feel bad about keeping it from Sam." Yes, I was aware how ridiculous that sounded. "What sound I do?" I dragged my eyes from the table and looked at Hayley dead on.

"Sound to me like you've already made up your mind." She said softly.

I thought about that for a second then slowly nodded. I wasn't going to tell Sam. I wasn't going to stop calling Dean. I was going to have to walk a fine line. It was worth it.

 **TBC…**


	13. Dean's SOS

**A/N: So I was meant to be revising for my chemistry exam and, well, it was boring. Sorry it's been so long guys. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW**

 **A/N2: Earlier when I had writer's block I went back through this fic and rewrote some chapters because I felt they could be better. Also TYPOS. I have no idea how I missed so many typos but hopefully more of them are fixed now.**

I was sat in a very booooring lecture when my phone went off. Swearing slightly under my breath and doing my best to convince myself that my face wasn't the colour of someone with sunburn, I checked the caller ID. Winnie. Crap. He never phoned me. It was always the other way around. Oh God, what if something was wrong? I forced myself out of my panic spiral and made my way out the lecture hall muttering excuse me. I did my best to ignore both the judgemental stares and the irritated ones. Hard as it may be to believe, (I mean, it's the history of English language. How can you be interested about that?) some people actually cared about this subject.

By the time I had got out the hall, Dean had hung up. I put on my jacket and started walking towards the car park. The lecture had been a bust anyway. _Dammit, Jess._ I thought as my fingers fumbled resulting in the wrong keys being pressed several times. Eventually I managed to call Dean back.

"Jess?" He asked drowsily. He sounded like someone who had been knocked out or something.

"Oh God," I breathed. "Dean, what's wrong? Where are you?" I asked urgently. What had happened to him? He better be OK else I'd kick his ass.

Dean made a sound that was a rough approximation of a laugh. "I may have got myself in a bit of trouble." Each word was punctuated by a sharp breath that sounded painful. "Much as I hate to ask, I could do with some back up."

I forced myself to remain calm. I refused to be one of those stereotypical blonde girls that started hyperventilating and turned out to be useless. "Yes. Anything you need. Where are you?"

I heard a faint sigh of relief from the other side of the phone. "Hostles Motel. Straten Road. Wanam." Fortunately, I recognised the town and the road. (My ex's sister used to work down there) It was about 40 minutes away.

"Ok, hold on. I'm coming." I informed Dean. I did my best to sound calm and disguise the tremble in my voice.

"Cheers, sweetheart. I owe you one." His voice was more faded. I started to sprint to my beat up Toyota (16th birthday present) As I tried to start the car I dropped the keys. I cursed myself as my shaking hands scooped them up and jammed them into the ignition. Now was not the time to live up to my reputation for clumsiness.

The drive seemed to take forever and yet no time at all. Yeah… _that makes total sense, Jess._ I told myself sarcastically. I parked haphazardly (parking was not my strong point) in the patch of gravel that a presumed was a car park outside a rundown building that looked like it should have been condemned years ago. I felt my nose wrinkle in disgust and berated myself for being so judgemental. I had no idea why Dean had chosen to stay here and, honestly, it was none of my business. I rummaged around in my bag and grabbed my cell. Dean picked up on the first ring.

"Hiya, sweetheart." Crap. He sounded worse. Much worse.

"Hi Dean, I'm outside. What's your room number?" I couldn't keep the concern out my voice.

"43, thanks sweetheart. Aren't feeling too hot." He didn't sound too hot either.

I got out my car and started jogging towards the doors with my cell still pressed against my ear. "Hold on. I'm coming." I pleaded as I sprinted into the motel reception.

 **TBC… (sorry. Ran out of inspiro and REALLY have to go revise now)**


	14. The Digusting Motel

**A/N: I felt very bad about that cliffy. Very very bad. So after reading reviews I started writing a new chapter. Thanks for your reviews guys. Am I meant to PM you or acknowledge individuals? Anyway, I appreciate all reviews even if they're not positive.**

 **Q: Originally I was going to keep this canon and not have Sam and Dean meet up but a lot of people have displayed a desire for them to have a reunion. What do you guys want? Canon or AU? Please tell me in reviews! I was thinking about making two versions.**

About halfway to the doors I realised that maybe going through the main entrance might not be the smartest move. I mean, are they just gonna let a random girl into a costumer's room? Probably not. Also, I had no idead what kind oof situation Dean had gotten himself into. I felt my frustration grow at the wasted time as I located the fire exit. I touched the decaying wooden door next to a faded fire exit sign and it swung open with little resistance to my relief.

I found myself in a dimly light corridor with mustard coloured walls riddled damp. The carpet was a questionable grey-ish colour and there was a strong smell of mould and generally uncleanliness. Yuck. After a little hesitation, (don't judge, disgusting corridors are usually on my list of places to avoid) I speed walked down it whilst making sure to look at the door numbers while keeping my eyes off the stained walls. Finally, I got to 43.

With a slight grimace at the slight of the door that was covered in a thick layer of grime, I knocked. "Dean? It's Jess."

I heard sounds of life from the other side of the door. Muffled foot prints got steadily louder until there was the jangling of someone unlocking the door reached my ears. The door edged opened, inch by inch, until I could slip into the room.

The first thing I became aware of was the gun pointed at me. No, I can't name it or the type or whatever but I do not like guns. Remember? It kinda took me awhile to get over the gun thing enough to notice the man who held it. He looked a long way away from the happy photograph from Sam's wallet. "Dean?"

The man raised half is mouth in a very tired smirk. His face was glazed with sweat and honestly, he looked like he was about to collapse. "Good to see you, sweetheart."

I suddenly realised I had to come to a motel room of a strange man I knew next to nothing about without telling anyone where I was going. _Really smart, Jess._ "Um, Dean? Would you mind putting the gun down?" Oh, why did my voice have to shake?

He blinked and looked slightly confused. "Sure." Dean chucked the gun into a sagging couch that I wouldn't touch if my life depended on it and then proceeded to relock the motel door.

It was at this point that I noticed the odd, metallic smell. I frowned, unable to recall what it was. Dean lost his balance and, automatically, I reached out to steady him. His shirt felt damp to the touch. I looked at my hand in confusion. It was painted in a crimson liquid. I realised Dean's shirt wasn't red. It was soaked in blood. I gasped in horror and my reflexes made me snatch back my hand. Dean crashed to the floor.

After standing frozen in panic for way too long I managed to lug Dean to the bed covered in suspicious stains (at this point I wasn't too fussed). I almost fainted in relief when he returned to consciousness. "Jess?" He blinked in bewilderment.

"Dean, I've got to call an ambulance." I felt way, way out my depth.

"NO!" There was no doubting the command in the statement. "No hospital." He said more calmly but there was no mistaking his conviction.

"Dean, I don't know what to do. There's so much blood and your wounded and-" I rambled frantically.

"Jess." Dean stared at me calmly. "I've had worse. We can deal with this."

"NO WE CAN'T!" I screeched. "How the hell are we meant to deal with this?"

Dean grabbed my arm and looked me dead in the eye. "How's your stitching?"

 **TBC… (sorry. Again)**


	15. An Unusual Use of Dental Floss

**A/N: Has it really been so long? Sorry guys. Thanks for being so patient with me. Holidays finally started on Saturday so hopefully I'll update more. Ok so still not decided if this is going to be AU or not but I still have more ideas with no Sam so yeah. Hope u enjoy!**

I stared at him in disbelief, my mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Finally, I found my voice. "Did, DID YOU JUST ASK ME HOW MY STITCHING WAS?" By the end of the sentence I was pretty much screaming. I mean, come on. He's got to be kidding. Right? No way can I stitch up a wound. I can't even get a stupid hem to stay stitched to stay fixed let alone actual flesh.

"You need your ears tested, sweetheart?" He quipped tiredly as his hand dropped from my arm. Did he look worse or was I just panicking? "Keep your voice down. The walls aren't exactly sound proof."

I glanced worriedly at the peeling wallpaper. I need to keep my head. Somehow. "Crap, Dean." I sighed. "I'm not a med student." That would have been nice. But then again, med students don't sew up people in crappy motel room with no equipment or whatever. Well, at least I didn't think they did. Med students were weird.

Dean rolled his eyes and applied pressure to his stomach. Looking closely, I could see the outline of some kinda bulky bandage. "Of course you're not. If you were that would be lucky." I gave him a small smile and shuffled awkwardly. "And I'm not lucky." He added.

"Well, your blood-soaked shirt kinda gave that one away." I couldn't just let Dean die. I needed to stop the bleeding. I needed to get help. I needed to… Oh god. I didn't even know what I needed to do. With a deep breath to get over my squeamishness or at least squash it I asked a question I knew I was going to regret. "What do you need me to do?"

With a fleeting look of relief, Dean motioned to a worn looking first aid kit on the chair. "There's some dental floss in there. I would do it myself but I can't really bend over right now…" he trailed off. Wait, did he say DENTAL floss? I closed my eyes and forced myself to calm the hell down. I could do this. Without any further hesitation, I hastily ripped open the first aid kit. "Oh and can you also bring the pain pills and the small bottle of whisky?" Dean called. I nodded tensely and grabbed the requested items and dumped them on the bed next to Dean. He promptly took a pill and began to navigate the removal of his T-Shirt. I gulped. That was a lot of blood and a hella lot of bandage.

"So… what first?" I asked shakily. I did not want to do this.

In a completely calm voice he gave instructions. "First remove the dressing."

I bit my lip as I peeled back fabric from his skin. When I got to the last layer I gasped. There were three long, gaping slashes. And they looked deep. He handed me the whisky without a word. I looked at it confusion before realising alcohol sterilises. Duh. I went to go and pour it on the wound when he said "Wait." I frowned in incomprehension. "Take a swig. I can't have your hands shaking." I glanced at said hands. Yeah… they were shaking. I nodded and drank a couple of mouthfuls, ignoring the burn of cheap alcohol as it made its way down my throat. I then proceeded to 'clean' the wound. "Now the needle." Dean instructed. I nodded and proceed to douse the needle in whiskey. Despite the floor being stained and generally unclean I still winced when a damp patch formed. I had been raised with the threat of death if a carpet got so much as a crumb on it. Next I got the dental thread and took a couple of times to thread the needle. _Come on, Jess_. I was wasting too much time.

"Ready?" I felt Dean tense in anticipation.

"When you are, sweetheart." He sounded nonchalant but the set of his jaw betrayed his nervousness. Yeah, I guess having a girl with bad sewing skills stitching you up wouldn't exactly fill you with confidence. With one last deep breath, I proceeded to stab the needle into Dean's flesh.

Several hours later I leaned against the motel bathroom wall after washing my hands viciously and shuddered. That had been… terrifying. Oh god. Dean was probably going to get a horrible infection and die. I closed my eyes and attempted to delete the past hours from my memory.

"Jess?" Dean voice came through the thin wooden door sounding concerned. Ironic that he was concerned about me when he was the one who had stitches. "You good?"

It took a couple of times to get me voice to work. Guess I was kinda traumatised. "Yeah." I laughed. Why was I laughing? Maybe I was more in shock than traumatised. "I'm OK."

There was a slightly awkward pause. "You sure?"

"Um… I guess." Yep. I sounded very reassuring.

"You don't sound sure."

"I'm sure." I glanced in the mirror while checking my pockets for my cell. I looked like crap but whatever. When I found my cell, I checked the time and… Shit. I had to get back to Stanford.

 **TBC…**


	16. Sam Freaks Out

**A/N: Finally finished rewriting so new chapter time. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO REREAD. The story has not changed at all.**

 **Q: I was thinking about writing about Sam meeting Jess. Opinions? PM me.**

Dean looked at me in concern. "What's happening?"

I made a helpless gesture towards my cell. 23 missed calls. 62 new messages. "I didn't exactly tell Sam where I was going and I think he thinks I've been kidnapped or something…" I scrolled frantically through the increasingly panicked texts. Some of them made sense like 'call me' or 'where are you?' but some of them. Well, some of them were just weird. 'Tell me where it's keeping you.' 'What does it look like?' It was creepy.

"What?" Dean grabbed my cell. "Shit Sammy." He whispered, face stricken. He shoved the cell back into my hand. "Call him. Now!" He commanded.

I nodded before I even registered what I was doing. Them hesitated. "What the hell do I say? I hiss.

"Tell him your aunt was taken seriously ill and you had to give your mom support. You're really sorry but in the panic, you forgot to call. It looks like she's going to pull through so you're on your way home." He instructed distractedly but completely calm. It kinda scared me how quickly he thought up a cover story. "Now, Jess."

I snapped myself out of the kinda trance I had fallen into and phoned Sam.

He picked up immediately. "Are you OK?" He sounded close to crying and I felt a stab of guilt for disappearing.

"Babe, I'm fine. My aunt was taken ill and I had to leave at once." I felt strangely detached as the lies slipped easily of my tongue.

"What? Oh, OK. Um. Is she OK? What was wrong?" Sam's voice went from distressed to relived, almost happy. I frowned. He shouldn't be happy my aunt was ill! OK she wasn't actually ill but that wasn't the point. He didn't know she was perfectly fine.

Crap. Dean didn't tell me what to say here. "She, er, fell out a tree?" _Great cover, Jess._

Cue, awkward silence.

I forced a smile even though he couldn't see me and continued. "The doctor's think she'll pull through. I'm on my way back now." I paused trying to think of the right words. I eventually settled for "Erm, Sam? You OK?"

Sam sounded a million miles away when he answered. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… Just don't… don't do that again." He finished awkwardly.

I chucked half-heartedly. "I'll try my best. Listen, I've got to go. I'll be home in around 40 minutes."

I could literally feel his relief at my words "Drive safely. I love you." I smiled. Genuinely this time. He still sounded unsure of the words. Like he wasn't supposed to say them but it was sincere.

"Love you too." I returned then hung up. My smile widened. I could picture the look of surprise on Sam's face when I told him I loved him. It was always there. Even now like he couldn't believe anyone would love him. It made me sad that he couldn't see how amazing he was. But back to the present. That had been one weird conversation. I had honestly no idea that Sam would react like that. He was usually so calm in a crisis.

"All good?" Dean inquired from the other side of the room. I assume he'd moved there in an attempt to give me some privacy.

"I think so." I was still staring at my cell. I mentally shook myself. "Anyway, I've got to get going." I gave Dean an appraising look. He still looked like crap on toast. "You gonna be OK?"

He shrugged. "Always am, sweetheart." He paused, suddenly looking unsure of himself. "Thanks for coming."

I shrugged. "It's cool. That's what family's for. Right?" I finished with a smile.

He grinned and it literally melted years off him. "Same goes for you." He told me seriously.

I debated then bounded forward and hugged him. Totally catching him off guard. He stayed rigid a couple of awkward moments before returning the embrace. He smelled like blood and gunpowder but it was kinda comforting.

I stepped back reluctantly. I really had to go. "Bye, Dean." I said softly.

"Till next time, sweetheart."

When I got home, Sam engulfed me in a bear hug.


	17. Woof the Cat

**A/N: I'm sorry. . .I'm an awful person. . . I shouldn't have left for so long. . . blah. . .blah. . .blah. I would promise not to do that again but I know I won't keep it. I have a veeeeery short attention span. GOODNEWS. I made a kinda prequel of Sam meets Jess or Jess meets Sam or whatever. Check it out if you want to. Doesn't add anything to this fic I just wanted to write it. Also, if anyone can think of a better title to this then I'll write you a one shot of your choosing. NO SMUT. Thanks guys** **. Y'all amazing.**

Sam clutched me tight, his hand tangled in my hair. I could feel his heart beating rapidly. He took a deep breath as though he was trying to inhale me. "Don't _ever_ do that again." I frowned, face buried in his shoulder, it almost sounded like Sam was _crying._ Which was impossible because Sam didn't cry. Ever. I kept my silence though. I didn't like to make promises I couldn't keep. And I know if Dean called me, I would go. "I thought something had happened to you."

I pulled away slightly so I could speak without a mouthful of shirt. "Like what?" Don't get me wrong, I was happy my boyfriend was concerned about me and all but wasn't it more likely I'd just left or something. Seriously, what could realistically happen to me that would make him so scared.

He let go of me which, while was good for breathing, made me kinda sad. "You could have got raped or something?" The fact he asked it as a question implied to me that he didn't think it was very likely either.

I rolled my eyes. Then a thought struck me. "Please tell me you did not call the cops?" I wouldn't usually worry because Sam… Sam doesn't trust the cops. But the way he was totally overreacting gave me pause.

Sam looked at me like I was an idiot. "Oh God no. Those jackasses couldn't find their car if it was parked across the street."

I frowned. "One day you're going to have to tell me what you have against cops. They aren't _that_ bad." I decided not to remind him that my brother was a cop.

I knew I had made a mistake as soon as the words left my lips. Sam's face swiftly made the transition from relieved to closed off. In a cold voice, devoid of emotion, he informed me "I just don't like them." And with that he turned away from me and began to walk towards the kitchen.

I grabbed his arm. "Sam – wait. Just- Just stop." I pleaded. I caught a glimpse of _my_ Sam behind the shadow that had taken hold of him. "I'm sorry, OK?" I didn't know why _I_ was apologising. I hadn't done anything wrong. But I was tired. I just wanted to be with my boyfriend. And at that moment, it meant more to me than my pride

Almost instantly his face relaxed. "No, it's OK, Jess. I shouldn't-" He ran a hand through his hair suddenly looking much more tired and old than he had before. "I shouldn't have reacted like that. I've-" He hesitated, looking unsure of himself. "Let's just say I haven't had the best of experiences with the police." He finished lamely.

I opened my mouth. Automatically ready to argue. To convince him he could trust me when I stopped. I didn't want to argue. Instead I offered him acceptance. "OK."

He looked confused. "OK?" Sam looked at me as if to say who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend.

I raised my own eyebrows. "Got a problem?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope." Then he looked at me as though he was appraising me. "Do you want a drink?" He asked out of nowhere.

I mentally shrugged. Whatever. "Sure." While he went into the kitchen to make me a coffee I took off my shoes and checked my cell. Nothing from Dean.

Sam soon returned with a coffee, which seemed oddly watery. **(A/N: Yes, Sam did put holy water in it)** We settled down on the couch together and watched a soap. After a few moments of comfortable silence Sam broke it. "How was your Aunt?"

"Hmmmmm?" I responded distractedly before my mind registered the question. "Oh. Right. Yeah." I search my mind frantically for something to say. "She's going to be OK." I nod my head seriously.

His eyes flick up towards my face before being hidden by his bangs. "You, er, said she fell out a tree?" He tried to keep the amusement out his voice. He failed.

I tried to glare at him. I failed. I couldn't blame him. _I_ would've found it funny if my aunt fell out a tree. "Yep." I nodded my head again because of a lack of something else to do.

I saw his attempt to contain his laughter contort his face. "So, Jess. What was your Aunt doing in a tree?"

I almost sighed in relief. He could ask me whatever he wants as long as he doesn't remember my closest Aunt is a 3 hour drive away. I said the first thing I think of. "She was following her cat."

This time Sam is the one who nods sceptically. "Her cat?"

"He's called Woof." I bluredt out before I realise cats don't woof. _Well done, Jess._

Sam looked at me incredulously. "Woof?" He said dubiously. "Seriously?"

I shrugged with feigned nonchalance. "She has a weird sense of humour."

Then, amazingly, miraculously, his cell rang. He glanced at the caller ID then walked outside to take the call. As he was doing so I whipped out my own cell to text Dean. I couldn't risk a call.

 _You OK?_

 **TBC…**


	18. Dean's MIA

**A/N: I couldn't think of anywhere to go from last chapter so hope this is okay. AND IT'S ACTUALLY A DECENT LENGTH. As always, all comments are welcome.**

 **A/N2: I have a new Cas POV fic up and would really appreciate your comments. Shameless self-promotion, I know, but I want to know if it's worth continuing.**

Dean didn't reply. It's not like I expected an instant reply, but, well, I didn't think he would ignore me. I was understanding for the first few hours, he was probably asleep. God knows he needed it. But after his mandatory four hours were up I called him. No answer. I started to get pissed. Because I refused to believe the reason he hadn't texted or called was because he couldn't. Because Dean-friggin-Winchester had to be okay. The alternative just wasn't acceptable.

After 8 hours, I called again. And again. I was lucky Sam had an exam tomorrow and consequently was oblivious to everyone and everything because I was dangerously close to blowing our cover with my blatant use of Dean Winchester. That would be kinda hard to explain if Sam heard. After 10 hours, I was terrified. Yeah, there could have been a perfectly reasonable explanation but something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

At the 12 hour mark, I was going to go crazy if I didn't do something. But what to do. I couldn't exactly say _hey Sam, you know your family? The one I'm not meant to know anything abou? Have you heard from them recently? Why? No reason. Just have a feeling your brother, who I know exists, is seriously ill._

I called Haley. I regreted telling her about Dean but at least I could talk to her about him. And she wasn't close with Sam so she wouldn't say anything. Haley didn't pick up. I don't hang up until I get to voice mail. She must have been in a lecture.

At 13 hours, I'm pacing like crazy and even Sam, in his revision drowned state, has noticed and asked if I'm okay. I tell him I'm fine. Just restless.

At 14 hours, I needed to sleep but I was too wired. I called Dean again and didn't expect him to answer but my heart still lurched in disappointment when his voice mail told me to leave a message. I didn't bother. Instead, I baked cookies in a futile attempt to distract myself.

At 15 hours, I took the cookies out the oven and laid them on a cooling rack. I wanted to scream that Dean's _hurt_ and nobody knew except me. And I don't know who to tell.

At 16 hours, I came up with a plan. A desperate, _stupid_ plan. I tried to tell myself I'm over reacting and it hasn't even been a day yet but I just knew that Dean's not okay. However, I don't want to rush back to the motel if he was fine or if he was just sleeping or if he had 'company' or if he'd left the motel and I walked in on someone else or if he'd just lost his phone or it was out or batter or… Well, you get the picture. What I needed to do was phone someone who might have been in touch with Dean. If no-one knew where he was… The I could take more drastic action. I walked into the sitting room and cast my eyes over the explosion of textbooks and papers. Sam was frantically reciting a defendant's rights and didn't even notice me hovering in the doorway, heart beating frantically. I saw his cell by an empty mug of coffee that's been refilled so many times it's permanently stained. It's also _my_ mug but I could get angry about that later. When I know Dean's okay and I can laugh about how silly I was. I forced myself to wait. To come up with a plan because if Sam notices me taking his phone then it's all over. I made my way over to Sam and kissed his check.

"Hiya baby. Coffee?" The words felt awkward and forced in a way that never applied to my conversations with Sam.

Sam lifted his head and looked at him like he hadn't seen me in days. "Oh God, yes. What would I do without you?"

I felt my face smile feeling strangely detached as my mouth formed the appropriate response. "Crash and burn." I picked up his - _my_ \- mug and swiped his phone and slid it into my pocket and pad into the kitchen to make coffee. I might be a terrible liar but it looks like I make a brilliant thief.

After I delivered Sam's coffee to him, I escaped to our bedroom clutching my prize. I opened his cell and ignored the twinge of guilty. Dean had to be my priority. I scrolled down the contact list before I realised I had no clue who any of these people were and who could help. I looked through it again and can to rest on a Dad. Sam hated him. Dean loved him. Both were covered in scars. But at least I knew who he was. I mean, the next name up was Caleb. That could be Sam's old soccer coach for all I knew. Sam told me he used to play. But to call _John Winchester._ The force that had torn Sam and Dean apart. The guy that made Sam's eyes burn with anger at the mere mention of the word 'Dad' or 'John'. It felt like a betrayal. _But what else was I meant to do?_ At the sound of Sam stirring I snapped to the present. I quickly copied the number into my cell. I could decide later.

It turned out Sam was just going to the bathroom. While he was doing his business, I put his cell back where I found it then fled back to our bedroom while I gnawed on my lip and considered my options. I could drive back to the motel. But Sam had the car keys in his pocket from a coffee run and I really wasn't up to creating a suitable lie. I could assume Dean was fine and just broke his phone or something. However, the chances of that were slim because when I left he really wasn't up to going, well, anywhere. My third option was a tell Sam and get him to call someone. How the hell could I explain though? Besides I promised not to tell Sam anything. _I never promised anything about John._ My final option was to call John. And while you always have choices sometimes you don't have any good choices. Right now it was looking like the best one was to call John Winchester.

 **TBC…**

 **A/N: I wanted her to call Bobby but couldn't find a way to make that believable**


	19. The Father

**A/N: Ah, John Winchester. So controversial. Written in my phone at 1 in the morning so please forgive any mistakes. Review please?**

I held the cell to my ear and ignored the frantic beating of my heart as it dialled. Just as it was about to go to voicemail, it was picked up. And at that moment I realised I was an idiot. In several ways really but most prominently, at that point in time, because I hadn't planned what I was going to say and had no clue how to start this conversation. I started gnawing on the inside of my cheek as my stomach twisted and turned with apprehension.

A deep, ruff kinda of voice rumbled over the cell. It reminded me of the sounds volcanoes in movies make make when they're about to erupt. "Yes?"

I opened my mouth to speak but no sound came out. What the hell do I say?

"Who is this?" The voice sharpened noticeably and had an edge sharpened by evident impatience.

Thankfully, my voice reappeared albeit squeakily. "Is- is this John Winchester?" I manage to say shakily.

The voice practically reeled of distrust and suspicion. "Who's asking?"

I closed my eyes and dragged the final dredges of bravery from within me. "This is Jessica Moore." I take a breath, intending to expand and explain but the voice cuts me off.

"Sammy's girl? He alright?" _Sammy again_?The curiosity and concern was only partially hidden by the gruff nature of the voice. And how did he know who I was? Did Dean tell him? Did Sam?

"Sam's fine." I try to sound reassuring I still sounded terrified. I press on. "It's Dean I'm worried about."

There's a heavy pause that's moved behind awkward. When the voice speaks again it sound confused. "Dean? What do you have to do with Dean?"

"I'm sorry, is this John Winchester?" The things the voice knew mixed with the things it didn't was making me nervous. I was pretty sure Sam hadn't spoken to his dad but if Dean had told him about me then the voice wouldn't be asking what I had to do with him.

An impatient grunt that was dissected by the cell phone conveyed the voice's dislike for being messed around. "This is John friggin' Winchester. How do you know Dean? Is he there with you?"

I struggled to come up with a way to describe my relationship with Dean. "He phoned Sam. I thought it was my cell and picked up. We've been... friends ever since. And no, he's not here. I was hoping you'd know where he was." I surmised. A tinge of the desperation I'd been feeling for the last 16 hours shone through in the final sentence.

A whispered "Shit, Dean." was the only response.

"So you don't know where he is?" I asked without much hope.

"Last I heard, he was on a job not far from you." John informed me flatly.

I nodded even though he couldn't see me. "I know. I.. I stitched him up." I admitted

"What? He was injured? What kind of wounds were received?" The change in tone was humongous. He questioned with the voice of a man who was expecting to be answered and quickly.

"Yes, he was injured." I cast my mind back and tried to think how to describe the wounds. "It looked like he had been… sliced?"

That obviously meant something to John. "Shit." There came the sound of motion. "I'm on my way. Stay where you are. When I arrive, you will take me to the motel room." And with that John hung up.

I'm ashamed to admit, my first thought was like father like son. After that my thoughts turned to how John knew where I _lived_ and Dean had been staying in a motel…

Oh crap. The Dad- He who shall not be named- was coming _here_.

 **TBC…**


	20. Poisonous Venomous Blue Black Dogs

**A/N: It has come to my attention that this fic is over a year old. As kinda a late anniversary I'm gonna try something a little different- Dean's POV. Sorry if it isn't the best. Thank you for your continued support. Love you guys.**

 **A/N2: You might also have noticed the chapter titles. I'm bad at titles which is why there wasn't titles in the first place but I was getting confused about what chapter was which soooooo… enjoy I guess.**

 **A/N3: Chapter 19 and 20 tweaked to fix plot holes raised by babyreaper (thank you) plot remains the same though so don't worry.**

Dean knew he was in trouble when the black patches appeared. Okay, he knew he was in trouble when the SOB clawed him but he knew he was in real deep shit when the black patches appeared.

The black patches were fuzzy blobs that danced on the edge of his vision and frequently grow in size until they pretty much _were_ his vision _._

Adding the burning feeling coming from Jess' stitches with the patches and Dean's shitty luck, it looked like the Black Dog was one of the poisonous ones. _Well that's just peachy_.

It'd be awesome if Dean could remember where he's put his cell and could stand up to look for it. It'd be even awesomer if he could remember the antidote for a scratch from one of those overgrown Labradors but seeing as he hadn't even remembered they were poisonous in the first place… well, let's just say the chances weren't too high.

Suddenly Dean was pissed at Sam. For several reasons.

Sam would know the anecdote and would already be working his mojo while bitching to Dean about how Black dogs aren't _poisonous_ : they're _venomous_ or some crap.

Sam could stitch a hell of a lot better then Jess. Dean was amazed her stitches had held. Though now, he's probably jinxed it and they would disappear or something which would be just freakin' awesome.

If Sam had been there, Dean wouldn't have got clawed in the _first_ place. Sam wouldn't have shot it while it was distracted by the thought of chomping down on Dean.

If Dean died, he hadn't said goodbye to Sam.

Sam wasn't here.

The last points on Dean's mental list (god, how geeky was that?) was venturing too close to chick-flick territory for his liking so the listing thing ended.

There was a raspy breathing. Dean tried to open his eyes so he could attack the intruder but his eyes were already open. The black patches had expanded until they just became a friggin' black mess. Dean was blind. The raspy breathing got faster and more panicked until Dean realised it came from him.

Dean started to wonder if he was going to die. No one knew where he was. Well, except Jess but she didn't know squat about things that go bump in the night exist.

He hoped Dad would find his body. Even if it was only so Baby wouldn't rust to pieces in the square of concrete the motel had the guts to call a parking lot. Baby deserved better.

If he got out of this, he would slaughter every friggin' Black Dog on the planet. First he would chop off their fugly heads. Then he would skin their mangy fur and salt and burn that flea infested crap...

... What was he thinking about?…

…Black… Black somethings…

…Or was it blue…

…he was so tired…

…it'd be so easy…

…just to fall asle…

 **TBH**


	21. The Waiting Game

**Two years later… How time flies. I honestly thought I'd finished this so yeah. Anyways. Actual long-ish chapter. First ever chapter break. Yay?**

I sat on the sagging sofa facing the window of our apartment. John (Mr Winchester?) hadn't given me an ETA so I'd spent the last two hours picking apart a threadbare cushion. The waiting was killing me. It was like when you were sat in the dentist's waiting room pretending to flick through an outdated magazine while just wishing that they would call your name already. My mind was too busy spinning in circles to start the essay due in tomorrow and I couldn't leave because _he_ was on his way.

 _Oh my god._ John _Fucking_ Winchester was on his way _._ I bit my lip and began the process of tracing a spiral into my leg. The man who had divided the brother. The man who was revered and hated. The man who I knew nothing about. I wonder how he knows where to come.

I wanted to talk to Sam. Not even because John was his dad. Because Sam was just my boyfriend- he was my _best_ friend _._ And I could kinda justify not telling him about me and Dean being friends but his brother was hurt for god sake. And even if they weren't brothers; my _friend_ was hurt and the person I would want to talk to about that was Sam _._

Maybe I should call him. Maybe he wanted to see his dad. I knew he'd wanted to see his brother.

I flip open my cell and scroll down to Sam's name.

No. I promised Dean. It wasn't my place or my business. Their argument was between them. Not me.

I snap the cell shut.

Then open it.

Then shut it.

Then call Haley because I've told her most things although I've left out the weirder parts.

I hold my breath as it rings. And rings. And goes to voicemail.

"Hey. You know Sam's brother. Well, he got hurt. Really hurt and he refused to go to hospital and he isn't answering his questions phone and I'm scared he might be-" I close my eyes. Saying it would make it real. "Anyway." I clear my throat and try to swallow away the lump that formed. "Call me when you get this."

I blink away my tears. I can't just sit here. I need to do something.

My thumb hovers over Sam's name.

Then I hear a thunderous knock at the door.

—

I snap shut my cell and leap up. In the time it takes me to walk down the hall, my door has almost been broken down.

I grab the key from the little hook and I can't find the right key. I unlock this door every fucking day and I can't find the right key. I take a deep breath and compose my self. There it is. A glint of silver shines like a beacon amongst the brass and golden keys. I shove it in the lock and fling open the door. I hear a muffled "Bout time."

A man stands on the other side accompanied by a cloud of gunpowder and motor oil. He's tall but not Sam level tall. Worn jeans and tucked messily into boots splatted with mud. Sandpaper black stubble is flicked with gray and heavy brows scowl over angry eyes. "You Jess?" He barks gruffly. I manage to nod in the affirmative. "Let's go." He commands and turns and marches to a beat up truck that still has a running engine. I hastily lock the door hurry after him.

To my surprise, he opens the passenger door and waits for me to whether although his foot is tapping with ill contained impatience. I mutter a thank you while scrambling in which he returns with a curt nod before slamming the door shut.

The interior of the truck is decorated with paper and fast food wrappers with more than a few empty whiskey bottles. The rumbling of the engine causes the whole vehicle to vibrate gently which makes my jittery.

John Winchester jumps into the driver's seat and puts his foot on the gas before strapping on his seatbelt. "Where to?" He demands and it isn't a request.

"Hostles Motel. Straten Road. Wanam." I recite. The address was branded into my memory. He nods. We sit in silence while I try to emblazon every detail of John Winchester into my brain.

"Did Dean give a report on what happened?" The sudden question makes me jump suddenly.

"No. I- we were- interrupted." Get it together.

"What by? Were you in any danger?" He asks with authority as his eyes bore a hole in the road. His voice is calm but underlined with urgency.

I feel like I'm being interrogated. "No. Sam was calling me."

At the mention of Sam's name, John stiffens but he nods in acknowledgment of my answer. "What injures did Dean receive?"

I wince at the recollection. "Three deep narrow wounds. He said he had had worse though."

John rolls his eyes. "Fucking idiot." He mutters fondly.

The silence resumes.

 **TBC…**


End file.
